


A World of Our Own

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, PWP - Porn with Peerlo, Therapeutic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrea is back in Italy, Riccardo is needy, and a month is an excruciatingly long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World of Our Own

Riccardo is surfing through the channels, his plastered leg propped up on a couple of pillows on the couch. Being injured is boring, a dull routine of physiotherapy, rest, random publicity appearances, and World Cup games on TV.  
  
Except today is different, because every other channel is showing clips of the national team returning to Italy. Upset faces, exhausted faces, speculations of the reasons behind the crash of the team.  
  
Andrea is being interviewed on one channel – recorded, since the plane landed ages ago, but still Riccardo stops to watch. Andrea looks criminally good for someone who has just travelled through the night, Riccardo muses as he picks up the coffee mug from the table.  
  
Riccardo might be jealous of Andrea’s apparently effortless good looks if he did not know that those good looks would be in his bed in just a few more hours.  
  
The sound of a key turning in the lock and the door opening shakes him out of his thoughts.  
  
Andrea is not supposed to be here before later in the evening, after taking his luggage back to Turin. But Riccardo’s mother is the only one who has keys to the apartment besides Andrea, and it is unlikely she would come over unannounced, especially after she visited him only the day before.  
  
He collects his crutches and just manages to stand up when Andrea walks into the living room with his enormous suitcases in tow, a gentle smile rising on his face the moment he sees Riccardo, “There you are.”  
  
“Weren’t you supposed to go to Turin first?” Riccardo asks as he limps towards the doorway, feigning casualness, “Thought you were driving back with Gigi?”  
  
“Took a cab here instead,” Andrea replies with a half-shrug, abandoning his luggage by the door and striding over to Riccardo, “Now shut up and come here, you.”  
  
Riccardo cannot get another word edgewise – not that he wants to – before Andrea catches him in a painfully tight hug, his arms wound around Riccardo’s waist, and lifts him up from the floor with a barely audible grunt.  
  
Riccardo’s crutches are forgotten on the floor as he wraps his arms around Andrea’s neck, clinging to his man, allowing Andrea to carry him through the living room and straight into the bedroom.  
  
“I missed you I missed you I missed you I missed you,” Riccardo keeps whispering into Andrea’s hair, his lips brushing against his earlobe, the traitorous tears stinging his eyes. They have not seen each other since they left Ireland after Riccardo got injured, and phone calls and skyping is just not the same, not even close.  
  
Andrea sits him down the edge of the bed, but Riccardo refuses to let him go, scooting backwards and pulling his lover down with him, his healthy leg wrapped around Andrea’s knee to force him to sit down as well, on his knees between Riccardo’s spread legs.  
  
Andrea stops to stare into Riccardo’s eyes, their faces only inches apart, his hands stroking Riccardo’s back gently, “Never again. One fucking month. Thought I was going crazy.”  
  
Riccardo does not answer in words – Andrea knows he feels the same, there is no point in saying it out loud – instead, he runs his fingers through Andrea’s hair until he reaches his face, pulling him into a long leisurely kiss, nibbling Andrea’s lower lip playfully, caressing his beard with both hands.  
  
He slips his fingers on Andrea’s lips as he finally pulls away from the kiss, enjoying the feeling of Andrea’s breath on his fingertips.  
  
“I missed this,” he admits softly, blinking the tears from his eyes, his content smile mirroring Andrea’s, “I always do, whenever you’re away.”  
  
Andrea covers his hand with his own, kissing each of his fingertips before pressing his lips against the palm, the beard tickling Riccardo’s skin. There is distant sadness in his eyes, regret and disappointment over the horrible tournament, but it is all in the background, softened by the affection that makes Riccardo’s insides clench almost painfully.  
  
They will have time to talk about the World Cup, Andrea will have a chance to talk about the negative emotions built up inside him, but for now there is no need. For now it is enough that they are here, together. Finally together.  
  
“Come here, you,” Riccardo whispers with a smile, falling back on the bed and tugging Andrea down along with him, catching his mouth again for a deeper kiss, slipping his tongue between Andrea’s soft lips, keeping a hold on the back of his neck to stop him from moving away from him.  
  
Andrea’s hands settle on Riccardo’s hips, one hand trailing over the thigh of Riccardo’s healthy leg that is propped up against Andrea’s side to pull him closer, their crotches pressed flush together.  
  
Riccardo bucks his hips upwards to get more contact, his hurt leg only an afterthought until the careless movement reminds him of the pain, and he freezes, hissing quietly against Andrea’s lips.  
  
“Stay put,” Andrea notices the sudden change, of course he does, and breaks the kiss only to nibble on Riccardo’s neck, his hands slipping down to his butt, rubbing the buttocks through the loose sweatpants before pulling the waistband just low enough to reveal Riccardo’s boxer-clad cock, “Let me take care of you.”  
  
“Better do it quick,” Riccardo lets out a breathy laugh when Andrea traces the shape of his erection through the black fabric before pushing the underwear down as well, releasing the awaiting cock, “A month is a long time, don’t think I can hold it that long.”  
  
“Ever heard of jerking off?” Andrea teases him with an amused smirk as he opens the fly of his dress trousers, pulling out his own cock and pressing up against Riccardo again, grasping both their erections in a loose hold, “You do know that’s not cheating, right?”  
  
“Shut up,” Riccardo scoffs with a suppressed giggle, rocking his cock into Andrea’s hand, moaning softly at the feeling of Andrea’s length against his own, “It’s different when it’s with you.”  
  
Andrea laughs against Riccardo’s neck as he concentrates on sucking on his pulse point, kissing and licking the skin hard enough that it will probably leave a mark. He adjusts his hold on their erections, running his fingers along the aligned lengths, tightening his grip a little when he caresses the tips, eliciting a louder moan from Riccardo.  
  
True to his words, Riccardo only lasts for a few minutes before orgasm washes over him, shivers running down his spine, his seed soiling the hem of his t-shirt.  
  
“Told you,” he mumbles, reaching down between their bodies and intertwining his fingers with Andrea’s on their cocks, helping him over the edge with firm, fast jerks, not paying any mind to the dirtied clothes as he lets Andrea’s cum mix with his own on his abdomen.  
  
They lie like that for a long time, Andrea on top of Riccardo, his face pressed on the juncture of his neck. Riccardo is beginning to suspect Andrea has fallen asleep when the older man finally sits up, looking down at Riccardo with half-lidded eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.  
  
“We should probably get undressed,” he says quietly, reaching out to pet Riccardo’s hair affectionately, “I don’t intend to let you go out anytime soon.”  
  
“Not like I can run, anyways, not without my crutches,” Riccardo quips helpfully, raising his arms obediently when Andrea moves to pull his t-shirt over his head. His sweatpants and boxers are gone quickly as well, and then he gets to enjoy the view as Andrea unbuttons his shirt and pushes down his trousers.  
  
“You’ve got tan lines,” Riccardo notes absent-mindedly once Andrea lies down next to him, one arm thrown around Riccardo’s waist. He looks down their bodies, caresses the tanned skin on Andrea’s hipbone, “Like you weren’t sexy enough already. Someone’s gonna try and steal you away from me.”  
  
“We just gotta stay in until the tan’s gone, then,” Andrea grumbles, his eyes closed, exhaustion from the long flight finally catching up with him, “We’ve got all summer.”  
  
Riccardo hums in agreement and snuggles closer, pleased with the response for now. Andrea will be needed back in Turin soon enough, but until then he will take all he can get. Besides, after a month spent with half the world between them, a short ride between Milan and Turin is nothing.  
  
Andrea falls asleep soon after, his quiet snores filling the room. Riccardo stays awake, though, enjoying his lover’s warmth, amusing himself by playing with Andrea’s hair, braiding small plaits into the silky locks.  
  
Just for a moment, Riccardo is actually happy that he did not have to wait until July to get his man back.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve come to realize that whenever I feel like writing fluff, I end up coming back to this “Nothing hurts” universe, where PeerloMonto are a happily established couple, with normal couple-y problems. I just like this premise, with all its domesticity and simplicity – it’s a nice change from all the angst I write.


End file.
